Villains in Perspective
by Reaya
Summary: A collection of short stories portraying the views of the villans (mostly Roger) in T.P.'s books.
1. Mistakes

**Villains In Perspective**

Mistakes

**~~~~**

_by Reaya_

He leaned on the wooden back of the bench, arms crossed over chest, staring unblinkingly at the large iron doors. Door which lead into the every knight's worst fears: the Chamber of Ordeal. Like years past, it had been his turn, then his cousins, and now it was Alan of Trebond's. Just one obstacle stood between him and the death of his Princely cousin, just one. And to think it took shape as a small youth with red hair and violet eyes.

And he was in the Chamber, the very one that had scathed him so long ago. Where he made his worst mistake, and left him power-hungry. And how many mistakes had he made since then? How many would he make in the future?

Even on a day like this when you're crawling on the floor

_The last flicker of light was shut out as the doors closed behind him. He waited for something to happen, nothing did. A boxed room, that was all, and to think of the fools that said--a sharp tug by the wind brought him out of his musings. It whirled around him, teasing and malicious. Slowly, a thread of orange fire left him, it quickly turned into a stream until all was drained. The orange smudge hanging in front of him compacted into a globe, shrinking as it did, leaving silence in it's wake._

_It was strange, how quiet it was without the whistling of the wind. Just like how empty it felt without his Gift. He frowned, he had only realized then that his Gift was gone. He knew it was forbidden to use it, and also impossible, but it had been there. And now it was gone? He laughed silently, how foolish of him to think it was really gone! No, it was just a trick--or was it?_

'It's gone, Roger. All of it, like your mother and father--dead,' _a voice whispered in his head. It was a soft, husky voice. Feminine, yet not at the same time, when had sounded out in his mind, purple eyes had seemed to stare out at him from the darkness._ 'No one truly knows you, you're all alone, just you and your ambition.'

Waiting for the birds to sing anyone who knows you anymore

Those purple eyes still haunted him, boring an image into his mind. In his mind, he saw Alan of Trebond staring at him through those large, innocent eyes of the exact same shade. But it wasn't him, how could it be? The voice had belonged to a woman, he had been sure, even if the huskiness indicated...differently.

The doors opened and everyone became alert. The boy stumbled out of it and his cousin and Sir Myles rushed to help him. Roger watched his mouth move as he whispered something to the Prince. She must have saw something relating to him, she must have. He was sure, he just didn't know why. Another mistake in leaving him alive.

It's all right to make mistakes, you're only human  
Inside everybody's hiding something

**~~~~**

He faced him, Alan of Trebond, fresh from the Ordeal and already causing trouble for him. But it was his mistake in slipping so much that gave the chance for the new knight to uncover him. But it would be nothing once the youth was dead, and by his own hand, no less. But why did he have a strange feeling about this?

_The voice slowly faded, as did the soulful eyes. Roger balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he applied the pressure of his silent fury. He dug his nails into the soft flesh of his palm until a drop of blood oozed out and dropped, splattering against the cold stone floor. There was a flash of white and he found himself standing alone on a black rock in the middle of nowhere. There was no light, but at the same time, there was no darkness. It was a state of nothingness. _ So it is true, _he thought,_ the Chamber does bring your worst fears alive. Another mistake to add to the list._ He smiled sadly at his own folly._

Even at a time like this when the morning seems so far 

**~~~~**

His eyes glazed over to hide this clearly-showing surprise. So Alan was really a woman. Alanna. He snarled and lunged at her, his anger could be withheld no longer. He attacked furiously as she countered, bringing out the best of herself. He watched in fear--that he hadn't had since the Chamber--as she beat him to the ground. In a last attempt, he called on his Gift and formed a large orange cloud around him, reaching to cut off the life of those who stood in his way to power and revenge. 

Think that pain belongs to you but it's happened to us all 

_The nothingness retreated as it felled him. Lying on the ground, he laughed silently, his mind wandering through times long gone. He remembered his uncle--the King--telling him of the death of his parents. Saying that his father had left, all the time trying to hide the truth--that he was really dead. Later, when he had remarked on this, Roald had said that what he had been told was done so to protect him--from pain. He had said that he would inherit the throne after him, and he was to be treated like a King's son. Then Jonathan came. He came and ruined all Roger's chances of power._

_His anger grew as he vowed to have the throne for his own one day. All that power, all that hate, centered around the throne that many would die for, would be his._

_Cold metal pressing against his throat startled him. The pressure increased and he looked up to see the welder of his life. But there was nothing but mist. _ 'Time to die, Roger,' _ Her voice said. And the next thing he knew was floating, trapped, in the Realms of the Dead._ 'Your own mistakes brought this down on you.'

It's all right to make mistakes you're only human  
Inside everybody's hiding something  
Take time to catch your breath and choose your moment

**~~~~**

He had dead, but not quite. The Chamber had taught him a lesson, and he had strived to reach his goal in finding 'Sorcerer's Sleep'. He had succeeded, and who else but Her own brother brought him back? It was all perfectly planned, no more mistakes for him. Footsteps declared Her arrival--Alanna, the Lioness.

_Suddenly, he found himself returned to the dark, closed room he had entered. A beam of light fell across him. He stood up and strode determinedly out of the Chapel. He learned something in there: Mistakes lead to fear, and he would make as few of them as possible. But then She came, and everything collapsed. But so be it, if his plans crumbled, she would die too. Along with the rest of the world._

_ 'Are you sure about this Roger? You're making another mistake. Do not follow this dream, it will only lead to destruction. Choose differently...please?' So now She begged, but it was too late. He tore himself away from the Chamber door and walked away._

I should have listened, he thought, laughing. It was his last thought as flames consumed his body and he fell into the Nothingness he was so afraid of. No Gift, No Life. All because of Mistakes: _his_ mistakes.

You brought this on yourself and it's high time you left it there  
Lie here and rest your head and dream of something else instead

**~~~~**

Something I wrote for the Dancing Dove's weekly Seanfhocal Challenge (now you know why I've been ignoring my fanfics). I advise you to go to the Dancing Dove Forums (link on my bio), which basically discusses everything Tamora Pierce and more. Browse around then decide if you want to join. Pretty Please?

The lyrics are from Dido's _Slide._

~Reaya


	2. A Sign of Death

**Villains In Perspective**

A Sign of Death 

**~~~~**

_by Reaya_

  
  
He ran his fingers delicately along the wine glass while brooding over the situation. A door slammed open, revealing his younger brother. The younger man glanced from the glass to his slightly flushed face, a look of disapproval shadowing his features. "Your son just came in to the world, I don't think Clarissa was up to it. Where were you when it all happened?" 

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Here, I suppose. What are you all worked up about? Clarissa is fine. Did you know it is very unbecoming and very out of character for you to act like this?" 

"Robert, you should at least go visit your wife," Roald reprimanded and huffed out of the room. 

He sighed and sat up, calling for a servant to take the cup. With movements of deliberate slowness, he traced his brother's route to the healer's Wing. 

"Clarissa," he greeted his wife solemnly when he arrived. She was lying in bed, her usually bright face pale and strained, her breath ragged and uneven. 

She nodded the acknowledgement of his arrival and motioned at the bundle in the mid-wife's arms, too tired to speak.  
"It's name?" he pressed, ignoring the baby and the hollowness showing clearly in his wife's eyes. 

Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but ended up only sagging back into the pillows. The midwife tutted in disapproval, ushering him out. "She'll be fine," Robert drawled emotionlessly. "I don't see why I have to leave." 

The next day, he sat beside her deathbed, silent and aloft. 

"His name is Roger," she breathed and let out her last breath. The Royal household was quite, in mourning for years to come. The little boy was neglected and brushed aside.

**~~**

Three years passed and found him standing beside her gravemarker. He had done this every anniversary of her death. No matter what people though, and what his behavior had shown, he had loved Clarissa. And that son of his killed her. He shook his head, refusing to even admit the existence of his young heir. 

As if reading his thoughts, the subject of his thoughts ran across the path. "What are you doing here?" he barked. The little boy shirked and scooted out of his father's sight as fast as his legs could carry him. He knew he was unwanted and he accepted that as much as his three-year-old intelligence allowed. 

Robert scowled after him. The boy was a sign of Death.  
  


_A year later, a mere hour before his horse tossed him into death, he saw his son again._

**~~**  
  
** Not very good, huh? It was very last minute. I know, I know, lack of detail. Usually I'm big on it, but not this time...**

**~Reaya**


	3. Inside Out

Inside Out   


  
One always has the advantage if one keeps the opponent on their feet. Never relenting, keeping them up at night, fearful, and never sure what will happen. I've already lost that advantage. The one that's kept me up so long. Fear.  
  
A turning point, perhaps. The turning point when I suddenly lost motivation. One's death can do that to you, you know. But what I lusted after before, now, and perhaps forevermore, is power. I cannot and will not deny it. But something else I seek, is to get this opponent of mine, back into that shadow of fear I used to cast over this forsaken land.  
  
No, my nemesis doesn't fear me anymore. That weakness is gone, I know that. But something else...something else that will cause her to startle is easily within my grasp. I clench and unclench my fists, my eyes snapping open. It came to me then, why didn't I think of it before? Perhaps dying did muddle my brain a bit.  
  
Rising from my chair, I walk over to the ash-filled fireplace. A few sparks still linger. Closing my eyes, I let the rusty flames jump from my fingers to feed the sparks, ever hungry for more.  
  
The fire has started, leaping ever higher. I smile, think that it is so like me. If I let it, it would consume the world, like I am planning to do. I run my hands over the flames, letting the power flow through me. My eyes open and I see.  
  
Sleeping, she seems vulnerable, but even then, I am vary. I learned that last time, time I felt the cold still stab through my chest. Oh yes, I am wary. I see her hair, the same copper as I saw last. A hand lies within read of that be-damned sword of hers.  
  
But what is this? I smile to myself, another weakness noted. It's my sword now, as much as it is hers, maybe even more so. She's more scarred, more knowing for all those years I was away. But still the same. Always the same, so easy to read, so easy to trick.  
  
She still has that charm, the one that caused my Princely--now Kingly--cousin to chase after her. I can almost see why. Just almost.  
  
I pour out my Power again, the one that is so righteously old blood.  
  
The Corridor. The Crypt. The Casket. Exactly the same as it was left. This will do perfectly. I lie myself down on the dark stone, and wait.  
  
She approaches; I can sense her coming near. I wait for her to come closer. I thrive in her feeling of unrest. I cannot keep from smiling, and that smile grows. Opening my eyes, I sit up.  
  
Her eyes widen in surprise and disbelief. That is all I can do for then.  
  
I awake back at the dark room; the fire has died. I smile to myself. That was just the begging of my plans to turn the heavens and lands inside out to get that revenge I need to satiate myself. At least for now. I don¡¯t care if I turn myself inside out in the process. After all, that¡¯s what coming back from the dead is for, is it not?  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
Night comes all too soon. I am slightly tired from talking tediously with the court all day long. To restore myself, I tap that life-saving connection. To think that I thought that idiotic brother of hers was a bother!  
  
I restore the fire and repeat what was done last night. I see her sleeping again, almost serene in her unconsciousness. I decide to use illusion this time. I summon shadows of the past, the crowded throne room as I was reintroduced as one of the living.  
  
I turn around and stare into her wide violet eyes. Surprise is there, along with hatred. I don¡¯t detect fear, but it will come, all in good time. ¡°I don't kill easily, do I, Lioness? But thank your brother for this. And mind you bring back my sword," I remark, making it sound like the most normal occurrence in the world.  
  
Everything disappears again, and I know she has awaken. One more night, and then I¡¯ll see her, face to face.  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
This time, I won't relent. I¡¯ll make her fear me, and we¡¯ll be back where we started. But of course, this time, I won¡¯t die. I let the Power take me back to my tomb. And sit and wait for her to come. She does.  
  
I step down and extend a hand. "Welcome, loved one," I greet.  
  
I encircle her waist with my arm, and lead her into a dance. A shiver runs through her; I smirk. "So Lioness, how do you feel?" She doesn't talk, I know she can't. It's a dream I sent her, and anything I do, I am in control of. We dance in silence, just for awhile. The dream can't last, and before she leaves I turn and brush my lips against her cheek. "Farewell, Lioness."   
  
The kiss is not one of affection In fact, just the opposite. I am warning her of the death she will face when my plans begin. Farewell, Lioness, and beware.  
  
And it ends. And again, I wait. She should be near now, almost in Corus. Thom has gone to visit her, I know that much. He burns with fever he has no idea of. They suspect me, but it is easy to play innocent.  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
I talk to the Lioness. I see she really doesn¡¯t fear me, but a bit of something resembling the fear is still present in her eyes. It will do.  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
That's it. They have tried to ruin me, the idiots. I walk quickly towards the room I know they are all lounging around in, acting like the fools they are. I slam open the door and enter. I look towards Delia, scolding the pathetic Malven. She's in for a scolding of her own.  
  
Let the fools think what they like. At least I have one who is not a complete fool. But even my former squire does not anticipate my full plan. But I shall let him try. They all underestimate her. Of course they do, why wouldn't they? They think that I'm still trying to take the throne, as if that would satisfy me.  
  
The least they can do is cause havoc and a diversion. I can work with that.  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
I'm waiting again. I've waited so long already, a little more wouldn't hurt. The momentum of the ground's shaking is soothing in its own way. I would almost applaud my cousin for his efforts of trying to hold the land together if it wasn't me who was causing it.  
  
Footsteps. She comes, exactly the way my plans work out. I turn around to check the Gate; nothing can go wrong.  
  
She enters and I smile. I prod her and summon the sword already rightfully mine. She will not let go, this I already know. She is dragged closer as the gate is approaching it¡¯s full power. I see fear in her eyes.  
  
I smile but stop: the fear is gone! I realize now, and begin laughing. The sword leaves her hand and heads toward me, still laughing. I find it so ironic, how everything always seems to end this way. So very ironic and funny.  
  
And this is the end of me, Roger of Cont? My body disintegrates as the cold steel enters me. I feel no pain, hear no sound. But I am still there, watching through the ghosts of my death. The Gate vanishes; the sword embeds itself into the ground. The Lioness collapses into blackness.  
  
But she is not dead; I am. Not sleeping anymore, but truly dead. My ashes blow away in a breath of wind. And truly, I am turned inside out.  
  
But the world is looking outside in, and finding itself liking what is there.  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ () ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
Yup, Roger again. What else would you expect from me. I don't have my books with me, so I couldn't do exact quotes, and improvised. The first two dreams I did with the help of Kes, who found the time to look for them. Thank you! 

~Reaya  



	4. Irony

**Villains In Perspective**

  
_

Irony

_   
  
"It's funny."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Everything."  
  
"How so?"  
  
She looked up directly into his sapphire eyes, as brilliant as it was all those years ago. His black hair seemed darker than before, though, and his eyes held a degree of sadness not there before. All in all, he was as young (or as old) as the second he turned to dust all those years ago. "It's taken your death for me to learn not to hate you."  
  
He regarded casually, returning her violet stare with one of his own. "My dear, I do not have all the time in the world. Stop dwelling on the past."  
  
"I never dwelt on it before you visited."  
  
"You lie. Thom's been watching you, that Dragon friend of yours and your despicable cat, too. Don't think for a minute that i haven't either. It's not so hard once you learn how." He looked with contempt around the room, noting the large bed and soft snores coming from it.  
  
"Great, an evil dead man has come to lecture me," she muttered. "What does a woman have to do to make a person stay dead?"  
  
"Not much, since I'm technically dead still." He jerked his head in the direction of the bed again. "You married him ? What did you do--celebrate your wedding at my funeral? Or didn't my cousin host one for me?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"You wouldn't have done too badly to have gone with him, you know."  
  
She looked up from her brooding. "Roger, get to the point, please. It's...uncomfortable talking like this."  
  
"You said yourself you've learned to stop hating me. And I..." He stopped, as if the next words where impossible for him to say. "I...want to apologize."  
  
She stared up in horror at him. "W-what?"  
  
"For killing whoever happened to die because of my...ill wishes to your King."  
  
A longer silence.  
  
"You can't just apologize for all you've done and get away with it, you know," she whispered quietly. "I may have stopped hating you, but I haven't forgiven you."  
  
He was more translucent now. "I know, and that's why I came. Watch your children closely, Lioness, they may be growing up and scouring the world of evils before you can blink. And what with this next war coming up, you need to remember you're not in your prime."  
  
Her brow furrowed. "Why do you care about what happens to me?"  
  
"I don't. I just wanted to remind you that this next war wasn't started by me. That's the second one Tortall has seen which I haven't taken part in." And with that, he faded.  
  
"What war?" she asked after him.  
  


_________

"I hope you're satisfied," he mutters.  
  
"I am. Thank you," the violet-eyed figure responds.  
  
The longest silence yet occurs.  
  
"It's strange seeing her in person…she's changed much," he speaks up suddenly. "She's aged beyond what I've thought possible. Wiser, but no less...mortal." He fades slowly again.  
  
Her twin stares mutely after him.  



End file.
